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Saturday, April 4, 2015

Decisions

Decisions

A fleeting ball of gossamer
Floats precariously on the wind
My soul’s sanity is dependant
On sticking a needle in
I’m no tower of strength
Built so tall and compelling
I’m not a font of love
There is no joy over welling
The line will end with me
Not drift infinite into space
It will never be the right time
The right person or the right place
Hopes are dashed here daily
Don’t come here to have your tears quenched
Truth cleans brighter then cleanser
Lesser emotions must be benched
So gird your loins and enter
Don’t be surprised when I say
I will not lose my center
There, at least, you have no say.


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